Paint My World Red
by Rushi-Sama
Summary: Ciel starts his new life as a demon and so far, he's not really enjoying it. To make thing's worse, somethings up with Sebastian that he can't quite put his finger on. Sebastian x Ciel. DISCONTINUED.


_Red_

_The same red I had seen every day…_

_The same red that swam into vision as I regained consciousness, and haunted my dreams in fitful sleep…_

_The same red I had shamefully come to adore…_

_The same red as those eyes…_

_Those eyes?_

_Why are they looking out of the mirror? Why are they looking back at me like __**that**__?_

_Could it be that I… that I too was… that he…_

…"_**NO**__!"_

* * *

Awake again. Screaming. Streams of words that make no sense to me, that ramble on into incoherent lines of gibberish. Every sense was numb. Every nerve was on fire.

_Pain. _I had never experienced it as badly as this. It twisted through every limb, through every organ, every vein, every pore, every _cell _in my body. I _breathed _pain. I _saw _pain. I_ was _pain.

And then – restraint. Hands cover my mouth; silencing my haunting chants. Arms hold me back against something soft – a bed? Something damp and soothing is held to my forehead. I hear whispering. It's quiet and methodical and yet; enchanting. This isn't a language I have heard before, but somehow I understand it. A lullaby that talks of forgotten lands in ancient times. Adventure. Mystery. _Temptation._

I want to hear more of this foreign tune, but my consciousness fails me. My hands flail in the air, as if I could physically grab something to stop me from slipping under the murky waters of sleep, as cold hands drag me down further and further away from the surface. As the unclear light leaves my eyelids, and I'm left in the chamber of nightmares and delirium once again; I think there is something familiar in the whispered wanderings of those forgotten tales.

* * *

_I was again taken to that place. _

_I'm sitting on a stone bench and it's cold. He kneels before me. The picture of devotion. The picture of perfection._

_There is a mirror. Gilded in gold, fit for a king, it stands solemnly alone; somewhat out of place in the ruins, a cloth draped over the glass._

Where am I, _I wonder? But the answer to the question comes to me before I call for my butler's assistance. We are in a place before and after, in between, over and under time. A place where your sanity is stolen, a place for fear. A place where evil things begin and end, and where pure things can never belong. _

_A place that you cannot reach heaven from. A place very close to hell._

_I know this dream. This is, what? The seventh time I've been here? The eighth? The ninth? I've lost count._

_I know how to make it end, I shouldn't be scared anymore. But that doesn't change the fact that I __**am.**_

_I rise. So does he._

_I walk to the mirror. So does he._

_He stands behind me. I contemplate the cloth. It should be so easy; a flick of the wrist, the cloth moves and the nightmare ends._

_I know what my face – my eyes – will look like. They no longer terrify me._

_What terrifies me is the expression I will catch on __**his**__ face._

_Slowly I reach out my hand and close my eyes. With a sharp tug I let the cloth fall. Slowly I open my eyes, and watch as a bloodlust red spreads through them, like blood in water, enveloping the blue that used to reside there._

_As the fear begins to set in, I dare to glance at the expression of the one behind me. _

_It's the look of pure hatred that curdles my blood and rips the scream from my lips._

* * *

"**NO**!"

I sit bolt upright as that same scream shatters the silence.

Within a split second he is at my side; calming me, silencing me, soothing me.

He pushes me back down against the bed and wipes the sweat off my forehead with a damp cloth.

"How long has it been, Sebastian?" I ask.

"Four days now, my Lord. Not long until your recovery."

"Is it supposed to hurt this much?" I try not to sound too much like a whiny child. I try, and fail.

"The pain will subside in a couple of days, my Lord. You are doing remarkably well, actually."

The truth was that the pain had been growing steadily more bearable as each day passed. I was now able to see and hear properly, as well as able to control my own thoughts and movements. Previously; it had rendered me blind, deaf and unable to form a coherent thought, or control my muscles.

Now it was down to a splitting headache and a raging fever. The nightmares were becoming more infrequent too.

Sebastian had brought me books to read from the library to get rid of my boredom. However, most of the time; my vision swam too much for me to read, and my arms hurt too much to hold the book up by myself, so he would read them aloud to me.

I spent my waking hours (such as they were) listening to these stories and gazing into my little hand mirror, growing accustomed to the new colour scheme of my eyes. It was hard to get used to; the blue replaced by a deep crimson, and sometimes, in moments of great pain, they glowed bright vermillion.

The nightmares bothered me. Sebastian had told me that it was normal for newly awakened demons to have recurring dreams; some happy, some sad, some terrifying. He had never asked exactly what the dream was about; and for that I was glad.

I could have lied, I could have omitted the part about his facial expression, but in my weakened state, I felt it almost impossible to lie to him. As if one look from him would make the truth tumble unwillingly from my lips.

I don't know why it bothered me so much. So, Sebastian looked at me with an expression of pure hatred? Hell – so what if he actually hated me?

Ahh, who am I trying to fool? The truth was; my butler's affections were extremely important to me, and to see such a look taint his beautiful features horrified me, even more that the look was directed at me.

I didn't want to talk to him about it. I silently vowed to myself that I would never bring it up. And then mentally slapped myself for giving it so much thought. I was tearing my hair out over… a facial expression. And at that; one in a dream.

I guess it bothered me mostly because it bothered me.

* * *

_A/N: In the end, I couldn't really rewrite or continue this at all. Call it a failed attempt :/  
_


End file.
